


Blood On Our Hands

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Brother/Brother Incest, Cruelty, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Sibling Incest, Underage - Freeform, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has been kidnapped when he was four, ever since Dean and John try to find him, even though John basically gave up and only drinks anymore. But Dean knows his brother is still alive. When he comes back four years later though he's different. And, despite Dean not knowing it, he's very dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one will be a very dark Weecest fic, I'll add new warnings as the story progresses bc I don't know what will happen yet. But it will be triggering and sick at times, you have been warned.

They lose Sam during a case, despite losing not being the right word. He is kidnapped. Four years old and kidnapped, without John and Dean being able to find him. No one knows where he is, no one has even seen him. It’s only four years later, during a night as dark as all nights since Sam is gone, that he comes back. John is passed out on the creaky motel bed like every night; whiskey and bourbon are his family now, there’s barely room for Dean anymore. They are still looking, but they both lost hope.

Losing Sam changed John, despite him never loving him as much as Dean; because Sam was different. Had always been, they both know it, both felt it. Dean remembers how cold Sam had always been when he crawled into his crib at night, even as a baby. Once older, Sam always seemed like he was a lively child, but Dean felt that he wasn’t, that in reality he wanted to sit down and don’t do anything.

Dean plays with the idea of stealing some of his dad’s booze for quite a while now, the old man wouldn’t even notice with the sheer amount he drinks, but he doesn’t. Right now Dean is the only one who still wants to find his brother, who still won’t believe he’s dead. It’s like he just _knows_.

The knock on the door, shortly after midnight, makes the twelve year old cringe. He doesn’t know who it is, could be a monster as far as he knows; and his dad is blacked out until morning, no way to wake him. So Dean does what he’s been taught, gets the shotgun from behind the door and loads it.

“Who is this? We’re trying to sleep!”

It’s silent for a long time; so long, in fact, that Dean thinks whoever it was out there is gone again. And then he can hear it, a voice he never thought he would hear again, silent under the wind outside. Only one word, but it’s enough to make him forget all his cautiousness.

“ _Dean_.”

The weapon hits the floor when Dean already opens the door. It’s not a hallucination, he had feared that for a moment. It’s definitely his brother, even if the last four years changed him. Long, brunette hair, sticky and crusted with what looks like dirt, his face a mask of absolutely nothing. His eyes are dull, the pretty face bruised from whatever he had gone through; but the worst is seeing all at once. His clothes are dirty and ripped, he doesn’t even wear shoes and his hands are covered in blood. Sam looks like a walking corpse.

It’s Sam, but when Dean rushes forward and pulls him into his arms, the brother he thought was lost forever, he can feel that at the same time he’s not Sam anymore. But right now what is important is that he’s there, whatever happened; they’ll fix it somehow, fix his brother.

“Oh god, Sammy…” Dean whispers, small hands closing behind him slowly; clinging on him in a desperation he never saw in his brother before. He picks him up easily, Sam is barely weighting anything, only flesh and bones, but it doesn’t matter. Sammy is back and thank god for however it was possible.

Dean can’t see that Sam’s eyes turn dark behind his back for a second, that his hands clench to fists and his knuckles turn white. The blood on his hands is dry, weeks ago it had been shed, but Sam is glad that it’s Dean who came to the door, Dean who was so much easier than John. When he carries the cold body of his brother inside Sam smiles, but it’s a smile that would send shivers down Dean’s spine if he’d see it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is different, but Dean doesn't know how different until it's too late already. His brother is hungry.

Before even thinking about something else Dean takes Sam into the bathroom. He stinks of death and blood and dirt, all smells Dean doesn’t associate with the brother he knows and that he wants to rub off him the best he can. Sam acts weird, when Dean lets him go his hands don’t stop clinging, Dean has to rip him off his shirt almost.

“Hey, it’s okay, Sammy. I’m here, I won’t let you go again.” He blames it on whatever happened, on Sam being scared of this being a dream, much like Dean is himself.

It takes long until he even managed to get all the blood off Sam’s hands, his brother so silent and absent as if he’s out of this world. Maybe he is, Dean thinks to himself. Whatever happened, he was away for four years and no one just copes with that easily.

“C’mon, Sammy, time to take a bath.”

Since Sam doesn’t react his brother carefully gets the clothes off him, stiff and stinking from the blood and dirt. He throws them into a corner and lifts him up to put him down in the tub. Now, for the first time, he draws a reaction. An almost panicked look when Sam grabs his shirt, his lips moving without sound. Dean frowns.

“Do you want me to come in?” he asks carefully and after a few moments Sam nods. “Okay, wait a minute.”

Dean gets out of his clothes too, glad that Sam at least seems to be aware of what’s happening, even if his reactions are sloppy and slow. When he climbs into the bathtub too he notices just how lost and skinny his little brother looks and it’s a horrible sight. Dean turns on the water, watching Sam closely as he holds a hand under it, letting it run over his skin. He doesn’t even flinch and the water is _hot_.

“Sammy, you alright?” Dean asks carefully and again Sam gives him a look with those empty eyes, so dark that he can see his reflection in them. His lips part, but that’s all. Not a sound comes from his brother.

Dean sighs heavily, then starts cleaning Sam. He’s not doing anything on his own, but Dean doesn’t mind, he had done this when he was younger too. As careful as he can he pulls Sam around, back towards him, and washes the dirt out of his hair. The water becomes dirty immediately, but soon the familiar brown is back. They only take ten minutes, ten silent and long minutes in which Dean can’t help but worry about what happened to his baby brother. Except from his name he didn’t say anything else.

When he dries Sam it feels like he’s drying a piece of dead meat. He’s colder than ever, the expression on his face so emotionless that it almost feels like he doesn’t have a soul anymore. Heartbreaking sight for his brother, who feared he might be dead for over four years. He even has to dress him, but he only has his own shirt; all of Sam’s clothes are long gone, burned in a drunk rage their dad had two years ago. Dean pulls the shirt over his head, gently pushing the still wet streaks of hair behind Sam’s ear.

“I got you, okay Sammy?” he says, more to himself than to his brother. He knows he can hear him, he could talk if he wanted; but he doesn’t. “Come, you gotta sleep. Tomorrow it’ll bet better, promised.”

He carries Sam into his own room, not even bothering to try and wake up their dad in the other. Sam’s arms are lazily wrapped around his neck, but when he tries laying him down he hold onto him.

“Dean.”

Again just a whisper, a broken and cracked voice, and it’s breaking Dean. He wraps his arms around Sam as he lays down himself, careful not to squish the weak body next to him.

“It’s okay, you’ll stay here. I’ll protect you.” Empty words, more to calm himself down, but Dean hopes Sam will believe him. He lost him once, no chance he’d lose him again. Sam makes a noise, not more than a snarl, but he lays still next to Dean and that’s something at least. Despite not thinking he can fall asleep Dean is out within minutes, holding his little brother.

Sam doesn’t sleep, he watches. He watches his brother, the same creepy smile on his face than before. Yes, it’s right that Dean worries so much. He’ll protect him from John, he won’t ask questions. When Dean is deep asleep Sam leans forward, his face buried against the crook of his brother’s neck. He inhales his scent, a mixture of gun powder, sweat and blood; and can barely stop himself from tasting it.

Two hours after Dean fell asleep he wakes up to a strange noise, like glass being shattered. He darts up, staring at the empty space next to him; and panics.

“Sammy!”

Sounds from the bathroom, muffled through the closed door. Dean jumps up, bursting into the room and revealing red everywhere. Red and his brother on the floor, his mouth dripping from blood. Dark eyes stare at him, the innocent face smeared with blood. Sam reaches out to Dean with his hands, grabbing into the air. Dean covered his mouth with a hand and steps back, his feet leaving bloody traces on the white floor, but he doesn’t care.

Sam isn’t alone in the bathroom. There’s a leg hanging over the bathtub, a girl’s leg, Dean can tell. He even saw it before, it’s the girl next door, the one who told Dean to stare somewhere else with his dirty eyes just this evening. He turns around, rushing out of the door and throws up in front of the motel room, nothing but yellow bile; the bitterness not even half way covering the dryness in his mouth. His stomachs keeps tightening, but there is nothing more to come, it’s just dry and painful.

It takes him five minutes until he’s able to go back, back to Sam who’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, looking at him with his big eyes, dooming him when he picks him up and wraps his arms around him.

“Oh, Sammy… what have you done?”

Sam nuzzles his face against Dean, hands closed behind his brother’s neck, and smiles.

“She tasted funny.”

It’s all he says, but the words send a cold down Dean’s spine nonetheless. _She tasted funny._ His little brother just told him a girl he killed tasted funny and all he can think of is how they will get out of this mess again. He pulls Sam closer as he lays back down on the bed, tears streaming down his face.

“We’ll fix it Sammy, don’t worry.”

Dean doesn’t sleep anymore, but Sam does. He just can’t let him go again, can’t risk more blood on his hands than there already is now. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, but he knows he’ll fix it. Somehow he will fix his brother and everything will be good again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had thought his dad would even be a little glad Sam is back, but he's not even close to glad and Dean has to make a horrible decision.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. His brother, barely eight years old, cowers behind him on the bed, clinging on Dean’s shirt with his little hands, their dad in front of him, pointing a gun at Sam.

“Move, son.” John commands, his voice as icy as Sam’s touch.

“Dad, no! He didn’t do it on purpose okay? Something got into him!” Dean is crying by now, ever since their dad found the mess Sam had caused the night before he did his best to protect the younger one from him, but he knew it was of no use to argue. “He’s just a kid!”

“A kid? He’s a monster, Dean! Have you seen the girl’s face? It’s _gone_!”

Dean cringes, he didn’t had the heart to go back into the bathroom. He knows enough to be scared too, but damn, Sam is back, isn’t that what they both wanted for years?

“Dean.”

It’s like a dart through his heart, this innocent and sweet voice, whispering his name. Dean can’t risk looking at Sam, but he wraps an arm around him protectively.

“We can fix him! I won’t let you take Sammy away from me again!”

“If you don’t move I’ll shoot you _and_ him. Your choice.” His dad’s voice is stern, the look in his eyes full of disgust and hate. The gun he lowered before raises again; and Dean’s heart almost stops. He means it. He will shoot Dean, then Sam and he’ll just leave and forget he ever had children.

“Dad, _please_.” Dean wraps his arms around his brother, tears streaming down his face.

It all happens so fast that he doesn’t know _how_ it happened later. Suddenly he’s pushed away from Sam, only a split-second later he hears the shot. But what he sees then, what happens with the bullet when everything seems to be in slow motion; he can’t process it. It’s _melting_. There’s only a small puddle on the floor, but before Dean can even think about anything else his dad flies through the room too; pinned against the wall and his clothes are smoking. He hears him scream, but it’s not him he looks at; it’s Sam.

His eyes are burning, as if flames were lit behind them. And the smile on his lips… it’s even worse than what Sam said the night before, after Dean found him in the bathroom. He just sits there, hands clenched to fists on the bed, eyes piercing through their dad – and _smiles_. And Dean has never seen something so bone chilling and creepy. Sam _enjoys_ it, enjoys inflicting pain to his own dad; who’s screaming like he’s dying right now. And he is, Dean thinks; and that’s what snaps him out of his state.

He runs over to Sam, grabs his shoulders and blocks his brother’s eye contact with his dad. When Sam looks into his eyes Dean feels hot and sweaty, but he forces himself to speak, even if it hurts.

“Sammy, stop it, please! You’re killing him!”

For a few seconds Dean fears he didn’t hear him, that he will burn him now, instead of their dad. But then his eyes finally clear, he can see this horrible gleam vanish and then the heat is gone too.

“He wanted to hurt you.” Sam says with this voice that he used the night before, but this time Dean just ignores the danger in it and pulls him against his chest. Their dad had stopped screaming and when he turns around he sees that he is not hurt, not visibly at least.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean whispers and brushes through Sam’s soft hair, rocking him back and forth. “It’s over, it’s okay now.”

“Okay?” His dad laughs, the sarcasm so strong that Dean wants to cry again. He just doesn’t know what to say to make it better, what to do to fix his brother. “This is what you want to protect, Dean! That’s not your brother anymore, he’s a monster and he’s dangerous!”

Sam tries to move, tries to look back at John, probably to do whatever the hell he did before, but Dean isn’t going to let him. He holds him close, prevents any eye contact between the two as he looks at the man at the window; the one who should protect them and instead just shot at his own sons.

“The only monster here are you!” He hisses, glaring daggers into him. “What is wrong with you?”

“So that’s it, yes?” John stands up completely now, his eyes shifting between the gun in his hands and his boys. “You’re protecting a monster that tried to kill me now?”

“He’s my brother!” Dean yells, tears shimmering in his eyes again. “ _You_ tried to kill him first!”

There is a heavy silence after Dean’s words, but he’s not going to take them back. Yes, Sam changed, something very bad is happening with him, but he only wanted to protect them both. He just stares at their dad and tries to calm Sam down somehow, Sam who just came back and who he barely knows anymore. He just knows that whatever happens now, he won’t let him go again.

“You’ll go.”

Dean is surprised by his dad’s words, doesn’t understand what he means. Go? If they go he’ll shoot their backs before they are out of the door, he knows it.

“Leave. I don’t even want to see your faces again. I don’t care if he burns you, Dean, but when he does don’t scream for me; because I won’t come.”

Dean is left thunderstruck when his dad leaves the room and he can hear him packing his duffle bag. Five minutes later the door is slammed shut and then there’s only silence.

“Dean?” Sam asks, his voice back to the innocent whisper from before, and Dean sighs, pulling him closer.

“It’s okay, we will make it. We don’t need him, right? You got your big brother, I’ll protect you.”

He hopes his words won’t turn out to be a lie. A twelve year old and an eight year old who melts bullets and can apparently burn people from the inside? Where on earth could they go to be safe? Sam lets go of his shirt and Dean just starts packing their stuff together. He’s not going to clean up the mess in the bathroom, all he hopes is that they’ll be far enough away so they won’t get into trouble. And in the end they’d probably blame his dad for it, grown men were more likely to kill young girls than kids.

After ten minutes Dean’s bag is packed and he managed to find some pants that are too small for him to give them to Sam. Of course he has to roll them up a few times and he still wears no shoes, but they have to go. Dean collected the torn clothes from his brother from the bathroom and got rid of any evidence that he was here at all before he takes his little brother’s hand and looks into his eyes.

“Ready to leave, Sammy?”

Sam looks up at him, his eyes big and round, almost like he remembers them; but not quite. There’s something he doesn’t understand, something dark that lies behind the pretty hazel color. After a few moments Sam nods and leans against Dean a little.

“Ready.” He says and dean nods sadly.

The day is bright, spring in South Dakota. Any other day Dean would have enjoyed it, but now he was just scared and sad, gripping his little brother’s hand so tight that he feared he would break it soon. They leave the motel and even though Dean doesn’t know what to do and is scared to the core of his existence he knows he has to protect his little brother. He’s the only one Sam has left and it doesn’t matter what he _is_ or what happened. He’s still Sammy and needs him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their way isn't as easy as Dean thinks once he knows where to go, especially not with Sam getting loose again.

Whatever happened to Sam during those four years, Dean quickly realizes that this isn’t his brother anymore. He looks like Sammy, he sometimes talks like Sammy, but there is something so dark in him, so horribly _wrong_ , that Dean can barely look at him. He knows the real Sam is still in there somewhere, he just has to be. Dean can’t stand the thought alone of his little brother being gone forever.

They travel at night, mostly because Dean doesn’t want to risk something like before again, and during the day Sam seems to be – calmer. Maybe calm is the wrong word, he’s more controlled when the sun is up. So they walk through the night, two kids that don’t know where to go and sometimes Dean carries his little brother, without even knowing why. Maybe because he doesn’t want to see him, this excuse is as good as any other. Looking at Sam hurts him.

It hits Dean a week after they left their dad and he feels so dumb for not thinking about this any sooner. Bobby lives here! They basically walked in circles for the last week, but Bobby’s house is literally only two towns away from the motel they left. This is the first time they walk during the day, because Dean knows if they just reach Bobby they’ll be good, Bobby will make it right again; he always did. Without a phone or remembering his number they have to rely on strangers though, a dangerous game with Sam.

After two hours of Dean carrying his little brother along the road and holding up his thump he’s about to give up and just walk the whole way to Sioux Falls, when suddenly a young woman hits the breaks. Dean runs over to her, carefully checking the car’s backseats while walking up to her window.

“Are you boys lost?” The woman asks worried and Dean can see that she’s barely old enough to drive, still almost a girl. He puts on his most charming smile and nods.

“I was camping with my brother and we got lost in the woods.” He explained, gently shifting Sam on his back to pretend he was way too heavy. “Do you come through Sioux Falls? Our uncle lives there and we’re spending some weeks with him. I’m sure he’s worried sick, I was supposed to call him yesterday.”

“Of course, sweetie. It’s a little off my route, but I’ll take you there.” She smiles and unlocks the car doors. Dean noticed they were locked before of course, or else Sam would already be in the backseats. “Hop in, it’s not that far away.”

“Thank you so much!” Dean says overly relieved and manages to lay Sam down in the back, without him waking up. Once the door is closed he walks around the car, slips into the backseats and rests Sam’s head on his lap. “My brother fell asleep and I couldn’t have walked any longer.”

“Don’t worry, dear. We will be there before you know it.”

Dean lays his head against the window when the car drives off, hoping so much that he’s right when going to Bobby. After John tried to kill them and kicked them out, where else can they possibly go? Bobby’s the only chance Dean has to at least find out what the hell is wrong with Sammy. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes; just a minute he tells himself. Just a minute to collect himself and to fight the exhaustion that’s taking over him.

He wakes up to a high-pitched scream and then he’s thrown around in the car, crashing against the window with force. Dean rips his eyes open and all he can see is that the world is starting to turn. The car broke out and rolls over, Sam crashing against him and he holds him tight, trying to stop him from taking another bite from the girl, who’s still screaming like a banshee. They both get thrown around again and again, glass raining on them and metal screeching; a nightmare that only ends when the car hits a tree. The last impact makes Dean hit his head hard on the metal of the roof, almost knocking him out. And Sam… Sam is already gone from his arms, his teeth sinking into the neck of the girl over and over. Dean blinks, tries anything to stay awake, but what he sees isn’t his brother. What he sees is what his dad saw: a monster, bathing in the blood of an innocent girl.

It takes Dean a minute to drag himself up, to get a hold of Sam somehow. He grabs his brother’s blood soaked shirt and pulls him back, his hand screaming from pain; but he doesn’t care. Sam, or whatever he is, needs to get away, they need to get away or there won’t be an escape this time. He can feel blood running into his eyes, blurring his vision. The door is bent and completely useless, so Dean does the only thing he can think of and tries to get the remaining glass slinters out of the window before crawling through it. He tries pulling Sam out too, but his brother is fighting, kicking and growling; all to get back to finish what he started. Tears shoot into Dean’s eyes at the sight of his baby brother losing it all.

“Stop it, Sammy!” He yells, a desperate cry in the afternoon sun that’s burning down on them. For a moment Sam looks at him, turning his head in a horrible angle that hurt even looking at. The smile on his lips showed teeth, red from blood, as well as his lips. However, Sam stopped. With one last pull that makes his arms ache and tense Dean gets the younger one out of the car; both brothers falling down on the grass. Still, Dean won’t let go of the bloody shirt in his hand, not even while he’s shaking from the sobs. He wasn’t able to prevent it, again. Sam killed someone and he didn’t stop him.

“Dean?”

He doesn’t want to look up, not into that face that will look so innocent again, as if Sam didn’t just bite a girl to death, a girl that didn’t do _anything_. And yet, Dean forces his eyes open and looks at the blood covered face that he loves so much.

“’s okay, Sammy. We’ll get to Bobby and it’ll be okay…” Dean sighs and lets his head fall back. There are definitely broken rips, he can feel them while he’s breathing. It hurts like a bitch. When he looks back up Sam is there, looking down at him with an almost blank expression. The smile from before is gone, his eyes just dull and lifeless. Dean can’t stand this gaze and forces himself up, despite the pain. Anything to not look into Sam’s eyes and see the life being gone.

He takes Sam’s bloody hand into his and starts walking, at first just dragging his brother with him until he catches his steps and walks himself. Dean doesn’t even want to talk, doesn’t know what to say really. If Bobby can’t help them he has no idea what to do. Their dad was right, something about Sam was so very wrong that it’s dangerous to let him walk around, he just proved it again.

_But he’s my brother… it doesn’t matter what happened, Sammy is my brother._

He really wants to believe his own words, but how can he? Sam killed two girls, at least. He enjoyed what he did, hell, he even _ate_ them! What on earth had happened that his baby brother became so monstrous?  


“Dean, I’m hungry.” Sam mumbles from behind and Dean stops his steps. He turns around, staring at those big and way too innocent eyes and has to fight back a sarcastic answer, something like: “Wanna go back and finish the girl?” Instead he shakes his head and brushes his hand through Sam’s hair.

“We’ll be there soon. One, two hours. Just keep walking, okay?”

Sam nods slowly and then, much to Dean’s shock, he wraps his arms around his big brother’s waist. Dean’s first instinct is to push him away, to just run and never look back. He feels horrible for these thoughts and bites them back, carefully holding Sam against him. He feels way too hot, considering he had always been rather cold, but he has no idea why.

“Don’t leave me, Dean.” Sam whimpers, as if he read his brother’s mind. Dean can’t help but hold lift Sam on his hips, holding him tight against his chest.

“I’ll never leave you, Sammy.” He promises, trying not to breathe in the bloody and dark smell Sam has on him. “We’ll fix you, okay? Just… just don’t kill people anymore. Please, Sammy.”

He doesn’t know if he wants an answer or not, but when Sam speaks he knows he didn’t want one.

“Don’t let it find me, Dean.” Sam’s voice is just a whisper against the older one’s neck, his hands holding tight on Dean’s shirt. And he’s shaking like a leaf in the wind, despite the heat in him.

“Nothing will find you…” Dean has no idea if it’s just a lie or not, but Sam is scared and Dean won’t let anyone near him, not if he has anything to say about it. “I’m protecting you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally they reach Bobby and Dean just hopes things will be better now, but it turns out the problem they're facing with Sam is much more dangerous than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, the creature responsible for this is not the way lore portrays it. Sue me. It fits better this way and since they never showed up in canon I felt I could tweak them a little.

“Do you think we can leave him alone, Bobby?” Dean asks a little scared. The last two times he didn’t look after his brother he killed people and he doesn’t want Bobby’s on their hands too. Despite what his mind is telling him, he knows it’s his fault the girls died. He should have been more careful.

“He won’t be able to open the door.” Bobby grunts, patting the thick steel. “It’s a panic room, son. Demons can’t open it, the little one won’t either.”

“I hope you’re right.” Dean bites his lip and rubs his arm that still hurts from their accident. Somewhere between the damaged car and Bobby’s house Sam fell asleep on Dean’s back. He didn’t bother waking him up when he told Bobby they needed to put him some place safe, where he won’t be able to hurt anyone. But seeing his little brother in this small room now makes Dean feel like he failed him.

“Come, ‘ya gotta tell me what happened. And why ‘ya both are covered in blood.”

When the door is closed and Bobby locks it a stone drops into Dean’s stomach. That’s it, he thinks. That’s what they have to do to prevent Sam from killing anyone. Lock him away like a monster. Dean turns around and tries to hide his wet eyes from the old man, but even without seeing his face Bobby knows what runs through the boy’s head. Somehow he always does. He puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly before leading him away, assuring him that, if Sam needs them, they’ll hear him.

Dean doesn’t talk until they are in the living room and even then he fights for words. He doesn’t even know what happened, how can he explain it to Bobby? All he knows that his little brother killed two people and enjoyed it. So he just starts with what happened a week ago, in the motel. He barely gets the words out at first and when he reaches the point where he found Sam in the bathroom he breaks out into tears, unable to hold them back. Bobby lets him cry it out, gives him the time he needs to get himself back together. And after that it’s easier for Dean to continue. There’s only one time Bobby interrupts him and that’s a hissed ‘Son of a bitch!’ when he tells him John wanted to kill them. Dean ends the story almost how it began, with Sam killing that girl in the car.

“We have to help him, Bobby.” Dean sniffs when he’s done, angrily wiping the tears out of his eyes. “I know something bad happened to him, but I don’t know what. He’s still Sammy, I know it… somehow he’s still there. It can’t all be acting, right?”

“Sounds like something’s gotten into him.” Bobby frowns, thinking about what Dean told him.

“But what? He’s not a demon, not a shapeshifter, not a vampire. So what is he?”

“Tell me again what happened when John shot at you.”

Dean swallows and looks at his hands. “I didn’t see much… just that I was thrown away from Sam. The bullet dad fired melted and then he screamed. His clothes… they were smoking. As if he’d catch fire.”

“And then?” Bobby asks, listen closely to Dean’s words and analyzing every single one of them.

“I stepped between them, forced Sam to look at me and not him. I felt so hot and sweaty, like I had fever. And then I – I… I told him to stop. Looked like something in him changed and then it was over.”

He sighs, that’s all he can remember. Other than the fear of course. The fear of losing Sam and his dad, even if he tried killing them. Because he was scared too, he knows it.

“So the key is fire.” Bobby mumbles and stands up, walking over to a bookshelf.

“Fire?” Dean is confused. There was no fire, just… heat?

“Pray I’m wrong here, son. ‘Cause if I ain’t we got a problem.” He comes back with a big book, old and tattered already. Dean swallows when Bobby goes through it, looking for whatever he had in mind.

It feels like hours until he finally stops and starts reading, a language Dean doesn’t understand. His face darkens with every other word until he finally shakes it in frustration.

“Dammit.” He grunts.

“Bobby, what is it? What happened to Sam?” Dean grabs his arm, desperately needing answers now.

“I’mma need a drink first. ‘Ya too, son. Ya’ll need it.”

Bobby vanishes in the kitchen for a few minutes, bringing back some whiskey and two glasses. Now Dean is scared to the bones now. If Bobby insists he’s drinking something like this it can only mean one thing: he won’t be able to help his brother. Dean doesn’t even protest when Bobby hands him the glass. He watched his dad drinking often enough over the last years and just does what he always did. The liquid burns in his throat, so much that he has to press his eyes together to force the nausea that’s coming up back. He won’t throw up in Bobby’s living room, no way. Dean is still fighting the burn in his throat when Bobby starts to speak.

“Ever heard of an Ifrit, kiddo?”

“An… Ifrit?” Dean coughs and looks up.

“’Ya know about Djinns? Pretty sure John ganked one or two. Ifrits are Djinns too, but they ain’t that nice when they feed on ‘ya.” Bobby explains slowly.

“That thing _fed_ on Sammy?”

“More than that.” Bobby sighs and turns the page to show Dean the picture in the book.

This thing looks horrible in Dean’s eyes, as if it came straight out of his nightmares. The skin burned, horns and claws, but what was even worse was what this thing did. There is a child, maybe four or five, and it’s screaming, the pain clearly visible on the picture. And the child, it’s not in the creature’s hands, this thing does something to it that no one should ever do. Never.

“B-Bobby… do they… do they do what it looks like?” Dean’s voice is weak, defeated. All his hopes that somehow Sam can be alright again are shattered with this one picture.

“Wish I could tell ‘ya they don’t, but those bastards go full on.” Bobby growls, shutting the book close and taking it away from Dean’s eyes. “’Ya had to see this, ‘ya know? Ain’t helping Sam if we pretend he’s fine. ‘Cause he’s not.”

Dean just stares at the closed book in Bobby’s hands, not even trying to hold back his tears this time. When Bobby hands him his glass, full again, he swallows it all without even thinking twice. It still burns like hell, but it’s nothing against the pain in his chest.

“What do they do, Bobby? What else do they do?” He just has to know.

“Lore says they put the kid’s asleep before, ‘ya know. Drain their life away. Can’t believe Sam lasted four years, it says they only last a few months at most.”

“Sammy is strong.”

Bobby doesn’t answer, maybe because he knows. Sam was always different from other kids, maybe that’s why he survived this. He clears his throat before continuing, carefully.

“Those kids, they never survive, son. The Ifrit injects its powers into the kid and it kills them slowly.”

“But Sam is here!” Dean snaps angrily. “He lives!”

“Not sure if that’s good, ‘ya know? Seems like he kept the powers. Maybe he killed the thing. Maybe he took it by surprise.”

“And how do we turn him back? How do we fix him, Bobby?”

There has to be a way. Even demons can be exorcised, werewolves can live a normal life most of the time. This can’t be the answer, that there is none. Dean just stares at Bobby, pleading and begging the last adult he can trust for help, but there is no help in Bobby’s eyes. There is just sadness.

“We don’t, kiddo.”


End file.
